Shadowhunters
by Vaguely Cobalt
Summary: What would Clary be like if her mother had never hid her from the shadowhinter world? What would jace be like if he had been raised by his parents instead of by Valentine?
1. Chapter 1

**Hi -author speaking- so this is the first bit of a possible story (depending on the feedback i get, and whether i can find the time to write) that's about Clary and Jace (and everybody else too) if some of the circumstances of their childhoods had been a bit differant. Here's the breakdown: they ARE shadowhunters, Valentine DID start the circle and the uprising and stuff and experiment on Jace with angel blood, the only thing differant is that Jocelyn never left him and hid in the mundie world, and Valentine, instead of getting away and raising Jace was caught by the clave and has been in jail for the last 16 yrs. So thats the basics, there are a few other particulars that will become apparent as the story progresses. If you are confused and/or want to know more you can send me a message and I'll tell you the details. Like every one else I LOVE feedback.**

**I don't think I really have to say that I don't own any part of MI, but I don't. **

The demon came toward them, massive, tall as a building. It almost scraped the ceiling of the abandoned subway platform. It's skin shifted like water, flowing about it, briefly parting to reveal, not bones, but an emptiness black as hell. It raised its hideous head and advanced languidly, carelessly, it knew they were in no condition to fight. It left behind it a trail of blackened cement.

Jace glanced at Isabelle, who stood beside him, blood ran down her face from the cut above her eye and she wrapped one arm about her torso, holding her broken ribs. With the other hand she held one of Jace's knives, her whip had been lost in the last attack. He turned back to the demon and spoke to Alec behind him.

"How's that door coming?" He heard a thunk, then a grunt of pain.

"Still won't give."

The demon advanced closer. It emanated the stench of rotting flesh.

"Keep trying."

The demon reached out a hand and clawed the wall. Brick crumbled into dust. Jace made one of his famous snap-decisions.

"Alec, I'm going in."

"What?!"

"I'm going to try to lead it. You saw how it crumbled that wall, It could get through the debris at the gate in a second."

"You'll get yourself killed!"

"Maybe not, anyway it's either me or all of us."

Alec came toward him. "I'm coming with you."

Isabelle turned. "Don't even think—"

Jace interrupted her. "No, it's better with one. You two get out of here."

The demon was very close now. It's eyes were pits. It opened it's maw and growled. Jace ran toward it, very small before it's mammoth bulk. He raised his bright seraph blade and growled back.

"Jace!"

He leapt.

Jace sailed through the air, his knife held tightly in his left fist. In the second that he flew he knew exactly what he was doing, what to do. Then he slammed into the demon's face, his knife sunk hilt-deep into it's eye. The demon roared in pain and surprise. It shook it's head and threw him across the platform. He hit the asphalt and rolled, over and over, then was up on his feet again, dancing away from the demon's clumsy half-blind lunges.

"Come on fatso!" He called, twisting away, "You ugly bastard, I bet even your mother hated you!" The demon lunged again, turning, trying to keep him in sight of it's single good eye. Jace dodged toward the rubble that covered the entryway, with his left arm he swung himself onto a large piece of archway, about two meters up. The demon followed, lunging with it's great claws at the stone, just as Jace had planned. It smashed through the blocks beneath him, Jace jumped, and his leg gave way. He tumbled down with the falling stone, cracking his had against a large piece as he fell. He hit the platform floor hard, and tasted blood.

The rubble had been partly cleared and the long-disused escalator was visible on the other side. Alec pushed Isabelle toward it and turned to the still figure that lay among the broken stone on the floor. Jace's fair hair was blackened with blood and dust. Alec knelt over him. Pushed two fingers into the groove on Jace's neck, feeling for a pulse. The gold eyes opened.

"Alec," said Jace, "Move." Alec turned, yanked Jace sideways and onto his feet, just in time to avoid the demon's raking claws. It lunged at them again and Jace turned to it.

"Go on," he said without looking at Alec, "get Isabelle out, I'll finish this."

"Jace --"

"Wait for me upstairs, I'll be right behind you."

Alec nodded, turned to his sister, stumbled with her through the debris toward the exit.

Jace limped away from the demon, sidestepping it's attacks as best he could. With his back to the wall he lashed out with his seraph blade, managed to cut a finger from one of the cruel hands. He turned, trying always to stay on it's blind side. Blood and sweat dripped down over his forehead and stung his eyes. The demon reared up toward the ceiling and Jace saw his chance. He flung his blade towards where it's heart would be. He missed. The dagger lodged itself in the demon's shoulder, and the beast, enraged by pain, dashed it's head against the ceiling. Stone fell like rain. Jace had no time to dive away from the falling bricks, he covered his head with his arms as the first peices struck his back, he fell to the ground under their bruising weight, rolling as best he could, hoping they had at least damaged the demon a little.

When the dust cleared he was lying on his back in a heap of rubble. The demon was a little ways away, it seemed unhurt. It came toward him and raised its terrible claws. Jace couldn't seem to move his arm, it was twisted at an odd angle and the bricks that had landed on him made every breath a struggle. He could see the eye so close and the blackness was empty, endless. The smell made him gag and retch it was so strong and the blood that dripped from the ruined eye burnt his skin. _I guess I always knew I would die like this, _he thought. _Being a Shadowhunter, death was an occupational hazard. Occupational hazard, that was a good one. _The demon lowered its claws to his throat, read to gash it open. Then suddenly it stopped, shuddered, sunk backwards on its haunches. It roared, writhed, and vanished. Jace blinked.

Where the monster had stood was a small star. It lit the rubble around in a pale glow. Jace watched it for a moment, he wondered how it floated there. Then he notice the shadow beneath it. A human-shaped shadow with a blood-stained seraph blade in its hand and flames for hair. The shadow came toward him, heaved away the rubble, knelt over him. Jace saw green eyes, a pale face spattered with dark blood and dust, and everywhere the bright hair. She set down the witchlight, pulled off her leather gloves and held out a hand to him. "Hi," she said. "I'm Clarissa Morgenstern."


	2. Chapter 2

**Hi again- so this is chapter 2 , it's short, like chapter one and if I named it I think I would call it "Fraternal Love" cause it's mostly about Jace and Isabelle. Thank you SOOOO much people whe reviewed chptr 1 -- yes you made my day! 3 I'm sorry to people who want more Jace/clary stuff cause your reading the wrong fic. Not that they won't end up together-- they will, but their relationship is slow and kinda painful, not one of those *ka-ching* love-at-first-sight kind of things. OK I know you wan't me to get on with it. so Adios. Enjoy!**

Jace woke in his room at the Institute and immediately wished he hadn't. His head hurt like hell and a horrible smell assailed his nostrils, emanating, he realized, from the bowl that a concerned-looking Isabelle held before him.

"You're awake," she said. "Good, I made you some soup." She moved the bowl closer and Jace had restrain himself from gagging.

"No, thanks." He told her hurriedly. "I'm actually not hungry. Maybe just some of Hodge's tea..." He spied the mug on his bedside table and reached for it, then cringed back as the movement made his head feel like it was splitting in half. He was debating which would be worse; risking passing out, or asking her to get it for him when she noticed his dilemma.

"Oh please," said Isabelle. She handed the mug to him. He took it and sipped slowly. The tea tasted like fennel, honey, and something bitter and dark that he didn't recognize. His head began to feel better at once.

"So," he looked up at her quizzically from the now-empty mug. "How come you're all up and about and I'm still--" He gestured at his prone position.

"Lying in bed with your head wrapped in about seventy yards of bandage? Well someone decided to go after a great big demon all by himself and--"

"Isabelle--"

"You fractured your skull, Jace. You broke half your ribs, got some nasty internal bleeding, snapped an arm and sprained an ankle. You're lucky Clarissa arrived at the last minute to drag you out and finish off the demon. We barely got you out of there alive. Then Hodge wasn't so sure he could heal you himself and--"

"Wait," said Jace. "Clarissa? Who's Clarissa?"

"I am," said a voice from the doorway. A girl with pale, freckled skin and curling red hair stood there. She looked about Isabelle's age, but she was so tiny Jace doubted she would even come up to her shoulder. "Hi," she said, and gave him a half-smile.

Other than the brilliant hair, this girl looked nothing like the one he remembered from the abandoned subway platform. If he didn't see the thousand faint scars the traced the arms revealed by her purple tank-top he would have barely believed she was a Shadowhunter. Not that she looked mundane at all, it was that indescribably sweet softness about her appearance. She raised her eyebrows at him and he realized he'd been staring.

"So," said Clarissa. "You look a bit better than the last time I saw you, I mean, you're awake. How's the head?" Jace reached up and felt the bandage that encased his scull. He realized what he must look like and cringed internally.

"A lot better," he said. "Great, in fact. I think it's about time this bandage was replaced by a smaller one so that I can walk around without my head falling off from the weight of it." Isabelle, who had been trimming her nails with the knife that Jace kept on his bedside table looked up.

"Oh, no you don't!" she said. "You are not moving one_ inch _until Hodge gives the OK. I know you, If you're not physically restrained you'll be out fighting again and end up in even worse shape, which would be dead, by the way."

"Well call Hodge then, I feel fine."  
"You know, Jace, normal humans _like_ to rest."

"Well, I'm hardly human and definitely not normal so you shouldn't be surprised."

"Look, I just came to see if you were awake," said Clarissa to Jace. "Obviously you are, so I'll leave you two to it." And before either Jace or Isabelle could respond she slipped out the door as quietly as she had come.

"I think you offended our guest," said Isabelle.

"Oh, _I_ offended her? I was perfectly charming, as I always am."

"Right," said Isabelle. "I meant to say 'scared her off with your appearance.'" She rapped his enormous head bandage with her knuckles. Jace frowned.

"I think that's the first time anyone has ever suggested that my appearance was less than magnificent." He said. Then, before she could respond; "By the way, where's Alec?"

"Oh he was here for hours, I could barely get him to leave. Now he's babysitting Max until mum and dad get back from some meeting." Jace raised an eyebrow at her.

"How did that work out?" Isabelle grinned.

"Well originally I was supposed to, but I pulled the 'women's jobs in a men's world' card on mum and she ate it right up. I'm sure Alec will come soon. In the meantime get some sleep, you need it." She hopped off the chair and sauntered out the door.

"Isabelle," Jace called. She reappeared in the doorway. "Take the soup away, will you? Before I asphyxiate." He grinned at her, evilly. She scowled at him, made a motion of dumping the bowl over his head, but took it, and again left.

Jace yawned, closed his eyes, and slept.


	3. Chapter 3

**Hi- so this is the long-awaited chapter 3 (sorry about the wait, I've been really busy) so this is to anyone who hasn't completely forgotten about this story over the last few (months? days? years?) anyway. Yep it's sort of an in-between bit- not much happens. Short too. I just wanted to get it out there. Promise the next one will be more exciting and longer-- also clary/jace fight scenes coming up! (trust me - i'm WAY more excited than you are)**

**btw. I LOVE YOU!!! reviewing and reading people that is. (well I guess you wouldn't be reading this if you werent reading this. If that makes any sense.) soo this is getting waaaay too long. Enjoy! **

**ok -I lied-one last thing: I've been trying to add more descriptions of places and people 'cuz I have a bad habit of writing only dialogue. (also i assume you guys have read the MI books and know what the institute etc. looks like.) Please give me feedback on this stuff! It really helps me write!! **

Jace walked into the weapons room, breathed in the smell of metal and leather that always permeated the air. It was good to be back on his feet after two bored-out-of-his-scull days of bed rest. He pulled a knife down from its place on the brushed steel walls. It was one of his favorites. The blade glinted blue and the leather on the grip was dark and smooth from many hands. It had been his father's knife, one of the few things he had from the parent he'd never known. Imogen had given it to him when he was ten years old. "Take good care of it." she had said. "It was your Grandfather's then your father's. Now its yours since you're old enough to use it." He'd stared at it in awe, feeling the razor sharpness of it, imagining his father wielding it, brave, tall and heroic as he was in Imogen's stories.

Now he weighed the knife in his hand, tested it's balance on the edge of a finger. It was nearly perfect, the handle was a little over-weighted, good for throwing as well as hand-to-hand. He hadn't used it in way to long. The last few days had seemed like an eternity of walls and closed, still spaces. He suddenly felt horribly claustrophobic, he had to get outside. Out into the city and away from all this meditative stillness. He wanted to be doing something, moving, fighting. Jace grabbed a weapon belt, thrust the knife through it and a seraph blade too. At the last minute he added a set of throwing stars, just for good measure, after all it had been a few days since he'd fought anything. He was going to get out. He rarely had the dizzy spells anymore, he only sported a small bandage around his forehead. It was time to be back on his feet. Jace buckled on the laden belt, took one last look around the room and headed out.

In the doorway he ran into Alec. The taller boy stared at him for a moment, looking exasperated.

"What?" Jace asked.

"Don't tell me you're going hunting."

"There's a couple imbati demon that I've been meaning to clean up, and--"

"I can't believe you're doing this Jace! Three days ago you practically died and now--"

"It's an imbati demon, Alec. They can barely walk they're so stupid."

"I just think you should rest for--"

"_Why does everyone in this house think they're my frecking mother!_" Alec flinched. Jace shouldered past him into the hallway, hurried down it, past the dimly glowing rose lamps. He pretended not to hear when Alec called after him.

In the elevator, Jace leaned back against the golden bars, closed his eyes, and breathed out slowly. He hadn't meant to yell at Alec. Alec was his best friend. They'd known each other since Jace was twelve and he'd begun to stay in New York after his mother had been sent to the asylum and Imogen had decided he should spend time with Shadowhunters his own age. Now he lived at the Institute for a good part of each year. Alec had always been more cautious than Jace, but lately he'd begun to be annoyingly _protective_. It was almost like he--

A small noise interrupted Jace's train of thought. He opened his eyes. The elevator had arrived in the shadowy street-level cathedral and the first thing he noticed was Clarissa, dressed in cargo pants and a black t-shirt, her red hair tied back, standing outside the open door.

"Hi," said Jace, surprised to see her. "You're back early. Isabelle said you weren't planning to return until tomorrow."

"Yeah," she said, sounding rueful. "It didn't exactly go as planned."

Jace stepped out of the elevator onto the stone floor. He knew better than to ask about where she'd been. Plus, he honestly didn't care, he just wanted to be out fighting something.

"You going hunting?" Clarissa asked, as if she'd read his mind.

"There's a couple of imbati down near the warehouses."

"Imbati? That sounds like fun. Do you mind if I join you?" She grinned at him, a toothy, slanted grin that made her look suddenly fierce. The expression surprised him, but then again, she _was_ a Shadowhunter. He frowned at his own naivety.

"Do you need a weapon?" She shook her head no.

"Then let's go."


	4. Chapter 4

**Hi- yep, it's me again. Soo this is chaptah 4 and personally I think it's kinda crappy but i just wanted to get it out. I promise the next one will be better! You guys are the best!!! seriously! The reviews make my day! (Not just the nice ones, I love criticism! so if you think I should change something PLEASE tell me!!!) **

**READ THIS BIT: so I know the name of my story is totally lame, but I can't think of anything else. So if you are reading and think of something to name it you could tell me and that would be sweet!!**

**Ok I know this chapter is really short and has a major cliff-hanger ending, so I will try to get the next one out soon. But I'm kinda pissed at Jace right now because I'm always coming up with these intense fight scenes and all he wants to do is go eat chinese food. And if you think thats sad you should here me talk to my other characters...**

**anyway-- Enjoy!**

The warehouses seemed empty in the gray afternoon light. They were an ugly sight, abandoned, collapsing slowly into the river behind them. An odd smell floated in the air. A combination of sewage, dead fish, rotted wood, and under it all, that heavy sulfur scent that demons carried. This place had been a lair for a long time.

There were no people here, no workers or homeless. It seemed completely forgotten, just left to rot. The pavement was cracked and crumbling. Everything was covered in a thin layer of grime. Everything was dead. None of the plants or grass that would usually grow up in abandoned spaces sprouted here. A single small, shriveled tree stood by a pile of refuse. Plastic shopping bags, blown there by the wind, hung in it's branches like strange fruit.

Jace stepped carefully, his footsteps making little sound. It was easy to tell which warehouse they were looking for, the signs of demon activity could be traced by a practiced eye. Blood, small bones, and the strong smell of sulfur blazed a clear trail. Maybe with a khagrus demon he would have needed a Sensor, but imbati were careless, stupid, easy to hunt. He felt himself grinning and turned to Clarissa beside him.

"How do you want to do this?" He asked. She looked back for a moment, her expression unreadable.

"This is your town," she said finally, "You know better than I do." The words seemed oddly forced, like conceding control to someone else wasn't something she did often or willingly.

"Let's just play it by ear then," said Jace. "Head in that side door there," he pointed, "And see what they've got." Clarissa frowned, a thin line appearing between her brows, but nodded. They continued, more cautiously now, toward the demons' lair.

Clarissa was a good hunter, Jace was beginning to realize. She could move as silently as him. She could produce a knife just as fast. Now they were at the hole that had once been the door to the warehouse where the smell was strongest. Jace looked at her questioningly and she nodded, just a slight motion of her head. Silent as shadows they slipped inside.

It was dark inside the warehouse. It seemed pitch black at first, but as his eyes adjusted Jace saw that thin pinpricks of light shone down from holes in the caving ceiling. The sulfur smell was chokingly strong here and he suppressed the urge to cover his nose. He could feel Clarissa beside him in the darkness, her tension like an electric current.

Now he could see more, rather than black, the ware house interior was a tapestry of dark grays. The room was cavernous, or would have been if there wasn't so much filth, refuse, old things that had been placed here and forgotten long ago. There were piles in one corner, the individual items unrecognizable in the dimness, like small mountains enclosing one side of the room. The imbati's nest. They collected things obsessively, piling them together to create a sort of den. Jace was surprised at the size of the mounds, there must be more demons here than he had anticipated.

Imbati were like dogs. Or bullies for that matter. Individually they were practically harmless. Not particularly strong or fast. Definitely not very bright. But together they were dangerous. They had a pack mind, could move together, think together. Like a wolf pack they drew their strength and courage from numbers. The more there were, the stronger and smarter they got. If there were enough imbati here to collect this much junk than it would be good to have the element of surprise.

Jace crept toward the nest slowly, silently. His foot hit something soft and he looked down. A dead cat, half eaten, it's head smashed, stared up at him with one glassy eye. There was a purple collar around what was left of it's neck. Jace reached downward, touched the head. It was still warm. With a bad feeling in his stomach he looked up again scanned the room. The shadows in the corners were as thick and dark as ink. Clarissa, who stood a few feet away turned toward him, her green eyes wide.

"They've smelled us," she whispered.

At that soft noise a hissing sound began to fill the air around them. Shapes emerged from the dimness, contorted bodies and clicking claws. Growling softly they prowled closer. Dozens of red eyes gleamed in the darkness.

Jace glanced at Clarissa, the expression on her pale face mirrored his own.

They were surrounded.


	5. Chapter 5

**Hi-- WOW two chapters in one day! I can almost hear all your gasps of admiration. HA Ha I dunno if this even counts as a chapter it's so short. But it's REALLY important to the plot so read it no matter how miffed you are at me breaking my promise (ya know-- the one where I said the next chapter would be longer) **

**Yeah-- so this chapter is all symbolic and stuff, (see if you can figure it out) ok, maybe not symbolic, but like, it's this thing that happens to Jace when he fights. YA YA whatever. **

**I may start to name the chapters, this one would be, like, "Bloodlust" or something. (The next one will probly be called "Taki's" -- yes that's a hint..)**

** Enjoy! **

Jace reacted fast. He whirled so the two of them were back to back, their blades held before them. Together they faced the circling imbati pack.

"What now?" He whispered. Clarissa made a noise that sounded strangely like laughter.

"How many do you want?" She asked.

"What?"

"With your head injury, you probably aren't as well off than usual so--"

"I heard what you said," said Jace. He lunged out at an imbati that had gotten too close, nicked it's muzzle. It fell back, whining.

"So...?"

"You just sound so, _cheerful_." He lunged again and another demon howled.

"You take that half, I'll take these," There was a strange, fierce laughter in her voice now as the pack's charges became more frequent. "When you finish up, we meet back here. You think you can handle that?" He could hear her grin.

"I'll beat you to it." Said Jace. He caught her glance for a moment, a flash of green in the dimness, and then he launched himself into the horde.

Jace was fighting. Stabbing, kicking, slicing, punching, whirling. In a sea of demons. It was a bath of imbati blood, more than anything else. In the dark chaos he fought by touch and sound and instinct. He could feel demon flesh give beneath his blade and his fists, he could hear the screams of the dying. And he could sense Clarissa, on the other side of the room, moving in the same deadly patterns.

At some point he lost his seraph blade, jerked out of his hand in a demon's death throes. Then he was using just his father's knife, sharp and blue. An imbati jumped him from behind, for a terrifying moment it's cold, sulfurous breath enveloped him, it's teeth were at his throat. He turned, losing oxygen fast and stabbed hard in a move he couldn't remember anyone ever teaching him.

And it was over, as the demon faded, he turned to face attack and realized it had been the last. A ways away, Clarissa was straightening up, wiping her knife on her pant leg. Their eyes met, and both of them breathing a little hard, giddy from adrenaline, began to laugh.

Together they left the warehouse, blinking in the light.

"You know, Jace said. "I'm starving. Lets go get something to eat. All I've had these past few days is tea and bread." Clarissa looked at him in confusion.

"Hasn't Isabelle been cooking?" Jace grimaced at her.

"Exactly."


	6. Chapter 6

**Hi- HERE IT IS! ch 6! finally! i'm so sorry it took this many millenia. its nice and long(ish) to make up for it though. I was really busy with term finals so i didn't have much time to work on it that why it took so long. lots of talking and thinking in this one, its a big setup for the next plot twist. you'll notice the beginnings of j+c. ok ok done talking now. btw I LOVE REVIEWS!!**

**Enjoy! **

They went back to the institute first to clean off the ichor that spattered their faces and clothing. The Lightwoods had left and Hodge was most likely working in the greenhouse, Church was probably off napping somewhere. The halls were empty and cool in the afternoon light.

In his room, Jace undid the stained bandage from his forehead, striped off his clothes and stepped into the welcome comfort of a hot shower. A few minutes later, smelling more of lime soap and less of blood and sulfur, he grabbed a towel and rubbed the water from his hair.

The bathroom was filled with steam and his head was a vague golden shape in the clouded mirror. He turned and wiped a hand across it, examined his face in the dripping glass. Where his forehead wound had been there was a yellow-purple bruise, fading fast from the black blotchy shape it had been yesterday. A long, thin scrape ran down his left cheek where an imbati's claw had grazed him, he touched it. It barely hurt, wasn't bleeding. He shrugged and went into his room, toweled off the rest of him and put on a black turtle neck and a fresh pair of jeans. As he was putting his old ichor-stained clothes in a bag to go to the laundry a knock came at the door. He opened it.

"Ready to go?" asked Clarissa. Her hair was damp, dark red and wildly curly.

"Almost," said Jace. She came further into the room and looked around.

"You clean a lot." She sounded surprised and he wasn't sure whether it was a statement or a question. He closed the bag and looked up.

"You don't clean?"

"Not like this. Considering an alternate career or something?"

"In cleaning? Yeah, sure. Jace Herondale: demon hunter and carpet shampooer at your service."

"It could work." Then she frowned, concentrating. "Wait, Herondale... As in Imogen Herondale? The Inquisitor?"

"My grandmother."

"So Stephen was your father."

"Yeah." Jace tossed the bag across the room, it landed with a satisfying thunk.

"Did you know him?" She was standing closer to him now, her green eyes curious.

"No, he died before I was born. Imogen's told me stories though."

"Huh, that must be nice." She seemed honest and for some reason that was what made Jace crack. The bitterness in his laughter surprised him.

"No, actually. I mean, I know she still mourns for my father, but, it's like she thinks I'm him. And I can't be. She calls me Stephen sometimes, like I'm just his replacement, not a real person." He dropped down on his bed with his hands in his lap. Stared at them, short nails and thin white scars. "And I can't live like that. Not even for her." He finished, almost in a whisper. Clarissa said nothing and he felt mildly embarrassed, he hadn't meant to talk about his _feelings_. He looked up.

Her expression was unfamiliar, not sympathy, but not scorn either, something in-between and quieter than both. There were delicate freckles on the soft skin below her eyes. Lashes curled, wet and tangled, dark red-brown against her pale cheeks.

He looked back down to his hands, knotted them together.

"What about your parents?" His voice sounded slightly hoarse.

There was a pause.

"I never knew them." Clarissa said finally, shortly. Her face had an odd, twisted expression that made Jace want to change the subject.

"We should go." He said.

"Yeah." She got up and headed out the door.

Outside the wind had picked up, bringing with it a chill that finally felt like October. Trash and dead leaves fluttered on branches or swirled in whirlwinds, they passed a group of tiny pixies clinging to the leaves and shrieking delightedly as they were flung about. Jace glanced at Clarissa as they walked along, she was watching the pixies, her mouth a hard line, her eyes vacant like she was thinking of something else.

His cellphone rang. It was Alec, sounding worried.

"Jace?" He asked.

"Yup."

"We're back at the Institute. Where are you?"

"Tell him to come home; I'm making dinner." Said Isabelle's voice in the background.

"Isabelle says--"

"Yeah, I heard. Tell her I'm terribly regretful, but I feel it is my duty as a Shadowhunter and an honorary New Yorker to show Clarissa the sights."

"You're with Clarissa?"

"Yeah."

"Oh. Well, mum and dad are gone for a few days. So I'm in charge. Be back before midnight OK?"

"Yes mother." Said Jace under his breath.

"What?"

"Sure Alec."

"OK, see you."

"Bye." He hung up, tucked the cellphone back into his pocket. Clarissa was looking at him, squinting a little against the low sun.

"So where are we going?"

"A place." He raised an eyebrow mysteriously.

"Right." She turned away from him again, gazing at their surroundings.

"Is this your first time in New York?"

"Yeah."

"So," said Jace, "How do you like it?" His red haired companion looked up at him and grimaced.

"It's loud, disorienting, smelly, self-obsessed. The mundies are obnoxious and blind to one another and the air had noticeable texture."

"Yep. That pretty much sums it up."

There was a pause and a cloud of pigeons, startled from where they had been roosting, filled the air with their wing beats.

"It's beautiful, though. In a way." She said contemplatively. "It's itself."

They walked for a while, Clarissa looking at the city, Jace watching her. The way her hair blew around her face in wisps until she pushed it back impatiently. She didn't seem to care what she looked like, but even in cargo pants, wild hair forced behind her ears, there was something about her. Maybe it was just that she was so different from Isabelle or any of the girls he usually spent time with. She didn't seem to be trying to be anyone else. She fit what she'd said about New York. About it being beautiful as itself. She was like that.

They turned a street corner and passed through an alley and were there. The walk had seemed shorter than usual. Jace stopped in front of the familiar low, decrepit looking brick building. Clarissa looked surprised.

"This is it?" She asked.

"Yup. This is Taki's. Best restaurant in New York City, no matter what the magazines tell you." Jace smirked at her, she looked back warily.

"Uh huh."

The doorman let them through when he recognized Jace. It was warm and dim inside. Smelled of cooking and cigarette smoke and something sour.

Jace led her to a booth over by the back wall and they sat down. An older, rather hairy-looking woman in a long black dress and a stained pink apron brought them menus. She dropped them hastily on the table, stepped back a few feet as if Jace or Clarissa might bite.

"Is there anything I can get you?" She asked begrudgingly. It was clear she was hoping they'd leave.

Clarissa stood up. "I was wondering if you have restroom I could use?" The woman glared at her for a moment, then gestured toward the back of the room.

"Second door on the right." she said. Clarissa glanced back at Jace, something like amusement in her expression, then walked off toward where the woman had indicated.

"So", said Jace, after a few moments of silence. "What's your name?" The woman turned toward him and glared furiously, the bristles on her upper lip standing out. There was something vaguely broccoli-like caught in them.

Jace was considering saying something rude, just to make it more interesting when a blond head appeared behind the woman's shoulder.

"Greta, why don't you take table five? I'll take care of this one." Said a high voice. The older woman grunted, frowned one last time, and shuffled off, muttering something about whores and Nephilim under her breath.

The owner of the hair and voice was now apparent. She gave Jace a glistening white smile.

"Kaeli," He said, standing up. He grinned at her. "So, you'll take care of me?"

"Well It seems to be my responsibility as a waitress, since you're here all alone." She put a hand on his shoulder and leaned close, pushed him gently back against the side of the booth.

"I haven't seen you recently Jace." She whispered. "I was starting to think you'd forgotten about me." She giggled, pressed her mouth against his ear.

"Oh I'd never forget you." He slid a hand down her back. She was thinner than the last time he'd seen her, her spine rough beneath her thin shirt. He brought the hand back up to her shoulder.

"Actually," Jace said. "I brought a new friend."

Kaeli kissed lower on his neck. She smelled like cigarette smoke and bubble-gum lip gloss. "Really? What's his name?" she asked.

Jace grinned. "Clarissa."

Kaeli pulled back and looked at Jace, brows raised above pupil-less blue eyes.

"A friend?" She asked.

"Of course," said Jace innocently.

"Well then," said Kaeli, and started to pull him back. Someone coughed. Jace turned, an arm still around Kaeli's waist.

Clarissa stood by their booth, a few feet away in the shadow of the wall. How long had she been there?

Kaeli turned too. "Hi," she said warmly, "You must be Clar--" Kaeli froze, staring at Clarissa who had stepped forward out of the shadows. She went rigid, blanched. Jace let go of her and looked back and forth between the two. Clarissa's face wore a strange, strained look that might have been fear.

"Clarissa Morgenstern." Kaeli spat, stepping toward her. "What in hell are _you_ doing _here_?"


	7. Chapter 7

**Hi- a few things I wanna say before we start.**

**1) 40 reviews!!!!!!!! O my giddy dirshnishmab!! I LOVE EVERYBODY!**

**2) Ok, ive been meaning to say this for a long time but always forgot when I was writing one of these thingies: The truth is, I have been to NYC exactly ONCE in my ENTIRE life. For half a day. And I spent the entire time in the Egyptian mummy exhibit at the Metropolitan Museum of Art. So basically I know ABSOLUTELY NOTHING about the city. Therefore I try my best to avoid all mention of streets, squares, etc. If I say something that's completely bogus, you'll have to forgive me. **

**3) This is kindof a continuation of 2, but i figured i'd make it seperate: Another thing I know ABSOLUTLY NOTHING about is fighting, swords, battles, etc. Basically everything I know about that stuff is from chinese action movies. So again, if I say something completely bogus you'll have to forgive me. **

**4) THIS CHAPTER IS NOT REALLY A CHAPTER. No, its not just all me yakking, but it's really, really short. It's a little foot bridge between chapters 6 and 8, which I decided to call 7. it just didn't fit with either so I made it seperate. btw, if you havent noticed, my chapters are really just the peices of chapters that in a book would be divided by * * * you know? anyway,**

**Enjoy!**

Jace looked toward Clarissa, confused.

"You know each other?"

She didn't look at him. "You could say that." Her hands were clenched into fists, Jace noticed, but she had composed her face into a placid expression. "To answer your question," she said to Kaeli. "I was invited."

Kaeli's eyes narrowed to blue slits. "They must not know you very well then. I doubt even your fellow Nephilim would want someone with _your_ family history."

Clarissa's composure seemed to crack at the edges, her voice was angry when she replied. "Your father was a criminal, Elril. He deserved to die."

There was a crash as Kaeli slammed the tray she'd been holding down on the table. It broke in two. "Like _you_ had the right to judge that!." She was shouting now. The people in the other booths had turned around to stare. "You filthy hypocritical bitch! My _mother _was killed by your--"

Clarissa's voice was also raised, "I'm not trying to justify what Valentine did! I just--"

"Wait," Jace cut in, "Kaeli, stop. STOP!" He grabbed her wrist when she looked like she was about to break something else. "What does Valentine have to do with Clarissa?"

Kaeli stopped short, surprised, then laughed incredulously. "You didn't tell him, did you?" Jace glanced at Clarissa in confusion, her face was very pale, her expression carefully blank. He turned back to Kaeli,

"Didn't tell me what?"

She was grinning at Clarissa, "Oh this is precious. Did you lie about your name or something? Or did he just never put two and two together?" She turned to Jace. "_Morgenstern_, Jace. Her name is Clarissa Morgenstern. She's Valentine's _daughter."_


	8. Chapter 8

**Hi- 50 reviews and counting! WOO-eee! So, this one's very short also, it really should be the second half of ch7, but i'm too lazy to re-publish them correctly. This one's a bit sinister. Sorry for the creepy ending, but its a side of Jace that needed to make an appearance. I'll try to get the next one out soon. I promise it will be longer and less creepy! Anyways,**

**Enjoy!**

Jace just stood there for a moment, as if Kaeli might start to laugh and say that she was joking.

She didn't. He turned to Clarissa, her face was stony. She didn't meet his eyes. And didn't it all make perfect sense, really? Now he remembered how she'd introduced herself on the abandoned subway platform. Maybe before he'd just not _wanted_ to remember. Not tried, because he'd, what? Liked her? Wanted her to be perfect? But no one was. He'd just been stupid.

"Why didn't you tell me?" He said. She just stood there, not looking at him.

"_Why didn't you tell me?_" He wanted to hit her. She looked up at him, her expression resigned, sad, ancient.

"Good-bye Jace," she said. So softly he couldn't be sure what he'd heard. And she turned and left, through the door.

That was worse than anything he'd thought she might do. He wanted to go after her and shake her and yell in her face, because her _father _had taken from him both his parents in one way or another and she wasn't even sorry. She didn't even care.

He felt a hand on his arm and Kaeli said, "Well turns out we have even more in common than I thought, don't we?" Bile rose in his throat.

"Let go of me," he pulled his arm away. She wrapped an arm around him.

"Come on, Jace. We could--"

"I said, _fuck off_, downworlder!" His hands slammed into her shoulders and sent her reeling backwards into the table. She fell. Her head hit the broken tray. The last thing he saw as the door swung behind him was her prostrate form against the table, blood spreading slowly across it's oily surface. He thought he might have killed her.

He didn't care.


	9. Chapter 9

**hi- OM-freaking-G! 65 reviews!! you have NO IDEA how over-the-moon I am!! **

**GAH! I keep on saying I will have longer chapters but this one's super short too. Ah well. I'll try to keep them coming though. So this one's about Alec's feelings. (and Jace's hangover) see if you can pick up on all the bittersweet-ness. How I love to torture characters! this ones not an original anyway, blame Cassandra Clare for Alec's pain. btw, I wrote most of this at 1 in the morning so there may be large spelling/grammarical mistakes. Anyway,**

**Enjoy!**

Jace walked through the gate into the Institute's overgrown garden as the sky turned from black to gray. Usually he loved New York at this hour, with the streets the emptiest they ever were and the lamps still burning from night. It was like a secret. A forgotten, misty hour when you could be alone, without the heat, pain, and bustle of day. Without the demons of night.

This time he was too exhausted to care. He was nauseas and his head pounded. His left eye was swollen shut and the skin of his right palm was shredded and full of glass splinters. His jacket was torn. Eager to get in out of the cold, he crossed the lawn and entered through the cathedral doors.

When he got off the elevator on the second floor Jace encountered a familiar, lanky black-haired figure draped over the carved wooden bench by the door. At the sound of the elevator arriving blue eyes opened and Alec sat up.

"Jace?" He said blearily. And then, "Jace!" When he saw the state of the other boy. He stood up, his voice, though whispered, was concerned and urgent. "What in hell _happened_ to you?"

Jace slumped against the wall adding guilt to his list of bad emotions. "You waited for me?"

Alec's expression changed from concerned to defensive. "You said you'd be home by midnight."

Jace closed his eyes. "Alec, you didn't have to--"

"I asked, and you _promised_ you'd be home by midnight!" Alec's voice was rising. Jace turned and started to walk down the hall. He was so tired.

"Jace!"

"I'm too tired for this, Alec. My head hurts like shit."

"Jace..." there was a sigh and then Alec's footsteps came padding after him. A gentle hand on his shoulder. "Come on. Come to my room, I'll clean you up."

Jace sat slumped in the worn blue armchair that shared a corner of Alec's room with his arrow collection and a small potted orange tree. The older boy's fingers were gentle and warm as he cleaned Jace's hand. He'd just finished picking out the glass pieces with a pair of tweezers, now he etched an iratze onto the back of it, another one above Jace's black eye.

"There," he said. Then he gave a tired, half rueful smile. "I should have let you heal like a mundie." There was a pause, sleepy for Jace, exasperated for Alec. "Why did you do it Jace? Why do you always..." But he stopped, because Jace's head had slumped down to his chest and he was breathing slowly and softly. Asleep.

Alec just looked at him for a moment. He reached out as if to touch the golden head, but stopped short and sighed. He got to his feet, picked up the tweezers and cotton full of glass shards. Put them away. Took one last look at the sleeping boy. Turned out the light.


	10. Chapter 10

**Hi- remember me? no i didn't die or move to the 1800's. heh heh. sorry about the millenia-long wait. So this chapter is very short and I actually wrote it about a year and a half ago as part of a bigger chapter which i have yet to finish. that will be chapter 11 i guess. anyway,**

**Enjoy!**

Jace woke up slumped uncomfortably in a chair. Afternoon light was streaming through a window to his right and his mouth tasted disgusting. Like vomit. His teeth felt fuzzy.

He was in Alec's room, in the shirt and pants he'd worn yesterday. No jacket though, that was hung on a hook on the far wall, his boots placed neatly below it. He was wrapped in the warm cream-colored wool blanket that usually lay at the end of Alec's bed. The bedsheets were folded neatly. Alec was nowhere to be seen.

Pushing the blanket aside, Jace stood up. Stretched, his muscles protesting movement after sleeping in such a cramped position. He examined his right hand, the skin of the palm was tight and clean, newly pink. The fading shape of an iratze barely showed on the back. He folded the blanket and laid it on the end of the bed. Picked up his boots and jacket and left thought the door. The hallway was dark compared to the brightness of the room. He came to his room, three doors down, went inside and set down his boots and jacket.

After showering and brushing his teeth Jace put on jeans and a t-shirt and left barefoot in search of food. The kitchen was empty, dirty dishes piled haphazardly beside the sink. Mayrse would have had a fit. In the refrigerator Jace found Hodge's usual neatly labeled containers, as well as half a purple cabbage and an open can of wet cat food. His search through the cabinets proved more successful, he emerged with a box of soda crackers, a can of tomatoes, and a jar of raspberry jam. He spread the jam on the crackers and ate the tomatoes with a fork. It wasn't bad.

Church sauntered into the room, leaped up on the counter.

"You know you're not supposed to do that," said Jace. Church just gave him a look and sniffed the tomatoes disdainfully. Jace scratched him behind the ears. The gray cat purred. Isabelle walked in.

"I hope you're not feeding him again, he's fat enough." Church hissed at her. "You are too." She opened the refrigerator. "I thought I'd make dinner."

"Where's Alec?"

"I dunno, probably the library. How does uh...cabbage sound?"

"I already ate," said Jace, offering the cat some jam. Church declined

"What, crackers? That doesn't count as food."

"And what you cook does?"

"Shut up." Isabelle closed the fridge, sighed. "I'll order takeout, happy?"

Jace smiled sweetly at her. "Incandescently." He walked toward the door. "Tell me when it gets here, I'll be in the training rooms." Church followed him, tail high in the air.


	11. Chapter 11

**Hi- yay! here's chapter eleven! I finished it quicker than I thought I would. This one's a bit longer and more intense. Emotionally it will hopefully be explained a bit in later chapters. I'm wondering if we could make it to 100 reviews, waaaaa! I love all you people who read and comment! anyway,**

**Enjoy!**

There were two practice rooms at the Institute: a large square one with punching bags and mats for sparring and hand-to hand, and a long thin one with targets for knife throwing and archery. It was to this second one Jace went first. He stopped in the armory on the way for a selection of knives, stars, and a bow and quiver of arrows, which he didn't especially like, they were more of Alec's thing, but Hodge was always telling him to get used to. Church watched him with unblinking yellow eyes as he stretched his arms, wrists, and shoulders, selected a dagger and took aim. He whipped his arm down and sent it flying through the air towards a target. It sunk half-way up the blade in the second ring. He sent four after it in quick succession. Not one hit the center. He took up the bow and selected an arrow, aimed for one of the high targets. His shoulder cramped on release, the arrow hit the wall and rebounded, fell to the floor with a light clacking sound. Church twitched his tail scornfully.

Jace turned on the cat. "Don't you have something better to do? Chase mice? Overdose on catnip?" Yellow eyes blinked once, slowly, then Church began studiously washing himself. Jace dropped the bow on the floor, swung his arm to stretch the shoulder. Imogen had told him always to warm up first, back when she still bothered to say things like that. Screw her anyway. Jace picked up the bow again and put it and the knives back in the armory. He went to the other training room.

The first time Jace hit the punching bag it rebounded and almost knocked him over. He cursed at himself, at being stupid, at the fact that his hands were shaking. He hit the weighted leather until he was drenched in sweat and out of breath. He stripped of his shirt and hit it until his knuckled were raw. For the first time in years he felt like crying.

Someone opened the door and walked into the room. Jace turned,

"Alec--" but it wasn't. Clarissa stood there, in shorts and a black t-shirt, her red hair braided back. He felt a jolt when he saw her, somehow, when she'd left him at Taki's he'd believed he'd never see her again. He'd excepted never seeing her again, he'd never _wanted_ to see her again. And now here she was, still here, after all. He blurted out the question in his head. "Why are you here?" The words hung between them, suspended and unfinished. She walked closer to him. Somehow, despite being barely up to his shoulder, managed to look down on him.

"You mean why am I here in this room, or why am I here even after you made it clear that you didn't want me anywhere near you? Because I really hope you don't think everyone cares that much about your opinion." He felt the anger from yesterday boiling up inside him again.

"When the Lightwoods find out what you did—"

And suddenly she was in his face, her voice intense and on the edge of anger. "What I did? Tell me what did I do, Jace Herondale, because I keep hearing that from everybody, and I sure as hell don't know what they mean. So tell me _what did I do?_" Her voice was cracking on the last words.

He was so mad. "Your father—"

Now she was yelling, "My _father_? What does—"

Jace's rage burst out of him like a tidal wave. "He's—You're—The reason my father's dead, the reason my mother is—Is—The reason Imogen doesn't care about—!"

"So now you're blaming your _family__problems_ on me?"

"Maybe it's because they're _your fault!"_

"_And maybe it's because you're a pathetic little boy with daddy issues!_" She spit the words in his face, cruel, demeaning. And he hit her. Without thinking. He'd never hit a girl, he'd never wanted to. He'd never hated a girl before.

He felt his fist connect with her face and for a second he saw her eyes very clearly, wide and green and... sad. They looked like the eyes of a child. Then stars swam before his vision and he couldn't breathe, because she'd slammed him hard enough to knock him to the floor. He was re-oriented and back up again in a second. Gasping. And angry. They were grasping at each other, hitting and punching and kicking like school children. Blindly.

It reminded Jace of the ugliest close contact fights he'd been in. Except she was faster than anyone he'd ever fought. He didn't know how long it lasted, every second was stretched out, long as infinity, yet too short to move the way he wanted to because she was every where and his head was spinning. There would be a moment when he'd manage to catch her and they were evenly matched, then she'd get away and have the upper hand again. They were close enough that neither could completely dominate. It took everything he had but finally he found an opening. He swung forward.

And she ducked neatly to the left, jammed her elbow painfully into his side, caught his arm, flipped him and pinned him. He saw her eyes; blank, hard, cold. Her fist came down to crush his windpipe in one swift blow. And he knew she would do it, kill him.

Her hand stopped. Barely brushing his neck. The fist relaxed. The fingers that touched his skin were shaking. He looked up, her eyes were very bright, all the coldness gone. They were like a child's eyes again, soft and alive. Her head jerked suddenly to the side, breaking eye contact. Because the door had opened and Alec stood there looking shocked.

"Oh," he said. "Uh... the takeout is... here." Jace realized what they might look like, Clarissa straddling his bare chest, one hand around his wrist, the other against his neck. He was acutely conscious of the warmth of her bare legs and hands. She jerked away from him as if he had burned her, stood up, walked past Alec and out the door. She didn't once look back.

Alec's eyes followed her then turned back to Jace. "You weren't...?" Jace shook his head and started to get to his feet, then swore loudly and almost collapsed. Alec got a good look at him for the first time. Apparently the bruises were starting to show because his eyes went wide and he made a strange whistling noise as the breath went out of him in surprise. "_Angel_, Jace. What did she _do_ to you?"


End file.
